


A Good Cause

by adrianna_m_scovill



Category: Law & Order: SVU
Genre: F/M, Fluff and Humor
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-12-20
Updated: 2020-12-20
Packaged: 2021-03-10 19:35:35
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,652
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/28202475
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/adrianna_m_scovill/pseuds/adrianna_m_scovill
Summary: Benson attends a fundraiser for Lucia's school, but the event is...surprising.
Relationships: Rafael Barba/Olivia Benson
Comments: 7
Kudos: 77
Collections: Barson Secret Santa 2020





	A Good Cause

**Author's Note:**

  * For [motherbearof3](https://archiveofourown.org/users/motherbearof3/gifts).



“Rafael.”

She’d been looking for him for several minutes, and she’d begun to fear he wouldn’t be at the event. She’d come because Lucia had invited her, but so far she hadn’t seen a single person she knew, and she felt a rush of relief and gratitude when she finally spotted Barba.

He turned at the sound of her voice. He was dressed in a full tux, his hair slicker than usual, and she opened her mouth to comment on how nice he looked. 

His expression stopped her. He seemed startled and less than thrilled to see her. “What’re you doing here?” he asked, glancing around at the milling crowd. 

She raised her brows. “Nice to see you, too,” she remarked. 

He grimaced. “Sorry, I’m just—Yes,” he said, putting a hand on her arm and leaning forward to give her a quick kiss on the cheek. “Hello. I’m surprised to see you is all.”

His lips, soft and cool against her cheek, sent a flurry of butterflies spinning around her stomach. She could feel the heat of his fingers through the silk of her blouse. “I’m surprised by...all of this,” she said, gesturing toward the stage at the front of the room and the banner stretched above it. “When your mother said she was hosting a fundraiser for the school, this isn’t exactly what I had in mind.”

“No?” he asked, the hint of a smile tipping his lips.

“Auctioning off men like cattle? It’s so…”

“Yes?” he prompted, still smiling.

“Degrading. Objectifying. Sexist.”

Barba leaned close to her ear and said in a low voice, meant only for her in the crowded room: “I dare you to tell my mother that.”

“She means well,” Benson said, and he laughed quietly as he drew back just far enough to meet her eyes. “And it’s to help the school. As long as the participants are all willing adults and there’s no…sexual favors being purchased…”

“Totally platonic dates, lasting between three and four hours,” he said. “Planned and paid for by the eligible bachelors. Of course, once those four hours are up…” He shrugged a shoulder and she rolled her eyes. 

“I’m sure this’ll be the beginning of many happy love connections.”

“Well,” he said, reaching up to straighten his bow tie, “wish me luck.”

She stared at him for a moment. “Luck? Are you...hosting…?”

“Nope. I’m one of the cows.” He paused and tipped his head in consideration. “Bulls.”

“Seriously?”

“Seriously.”

“I never thought you’d be the type to participate in this sort of—”

“Meat market?”

She glared at him. 

“Maybe not,” he allowed. “But do I strike you as the type to refuse my mother?”

“You’re really going to let these strangers pay money for you to take them out to dinner?”

“Oh, I have much more than dinner in store for them.” He grinned and leaned closer again. “And if things are going well when the clock strikes ten? Let’s just say I’ve been known to put out on a first date.” He chuckled at her glare and laid a hand against her arm for a moment. “Speaking of dinner, wanna grab something to eat after this?”

“I can’t,” she said with real regret. “I have to get home.”

He smiled. “Another time. I really have to go but we can talk after I’m done?”

She nodded, unsure what else there was to say, and watched as he turned and made his way toward the stage where the other men were already assembling. She realized they were going to have them all lined up together, and she felt her stomach sink. Bad enough to parade them out one by one, but to stand them side by side for comparison?

Barba looked good in his tux, but the man beside him was six inches taller and built like a lumberjack. She knew Barba was confident, but she didn’t want his feelings hurt.

Benson took a spot near the front of the crowd of mostly women. She offered Barba an encouraging smile when their eyes met, and she tried to listen to Lucia’s speech about the charter school and how much the money raised from the night’s events would help with the things they needed. She explained the terms—the men would take care of all aspects of the date, which would be no less than three hours in length—and the rules of bidding and paying, and then she told the excited crowd that it was time to get things started.

Benson glanced around, noting no one seemed remotely uncomfortable with any of this. She suppressed a sigh and turned her attention back to the stage in time to see Barba smiling at a young blonde woman a few yards away. The woman turned and said something to her friend, and Benson did her best to ignore the unexpected and unwelcome stab of jealousy. She had no claim on Barba or his flirty smiles.

“Got your eye on someone?” 

Benson looked at the woman beside her. “I’m sorry? Oh, no, I’m just—”

“I want the short one.”

Benson glanced toward the stage even though she knew that Barba’s perfectly respectable and average height made him the shortest man up there. In all the years she’d known him, she’d never once considered him _short_. When she wasn’t in high heels or platforms they stood perfectly matched, eye to eye.

“Oh?” was all she could manage as a response.

“Look at him. Best dressed by miles. Cocky posture but friendly smile. I’m betting whatever he plans for his date will put the others to shame.”

“It’s not a competition, right? All in good fun to raise some money for the school.”

“Sure,” the woman said, shooting Benson a look with barely-concealed exasperation. “But if I’m shelling out a few hundred dollars for a few hours, I want to enjoy myself. Besides, he looks like the kind of guy you can eventually take home to meet your parents, you know?”

“Please excuse me,” Benson said, turning and making her way through the crowd. She suddenly needed a drink, and something stronger than the punch with melting blobs of vanilla ice cream in it. Luckily there was a bar, and she handed over ten dollars for a glass of wine while reminding herself it was for a good cause. 

She turned and looked toward the stage, which was elevated just enough for her to see the men’s heads above the crowd. Her eyes found Barba’s and she faltered for a moment, surprised. She raised her glass in silent toast, but he didn’t smile. His gaze slid away from her to scan the ladies in the front row. 

Lucia was introducing the first eligible bachelor—a single father of two honor students who happened to also be a cardiac surgeon—but Benson barely noticed as women raised their hands and shouted out bids until his price had climbed from the opening hundred dollar bid all the way up to four hundred. 

Benson wove her way back into the crowd, murmuring apologies as she edged closer to the stage. She finally found a new spot in the front row and sipped at her wine while the bidding opened on Bachelor #2. An architect who sold for three-fifty.

She reminded herself that the women weren’t really bidding on the _men_ , but on whatever date would be provided, but it was difficult to hold onto that logic when no information was actually given about the dates. The bidders were left to use their imaginations about what they might be getting for their money, and Benson had a feeling she knew where most of their imaginations could be found.

She suddenly realized she was standing beside the young blonde woman with whom Barba had shared a smile. She hadn’t yet offered up a bid, but her eyes were on a certain prize. 

Benson finished her wine and wished she had another, but she wasn’t going to wend her way through the crowd again. She stood holding her empty glass as the next two men—dates—were sold for four-fifty and three-fifty. There were only two left. Barba was up next.

Harvard-educated former ADA now working in the private sector, according to his mother. She added that he was a good Catholic boy who wanted nothing more than to settle down and start a family, and Benson almost laughed at the exasperated look Barba shot Lucia. 

Her humor died quickly, however—as quickly as two women both tried to nab the opening hundred dollar bid. The blonde beside Benson, and the woman who’d called Barba _short_ drove the price over three hundred in record time, bidding against each other in rapid succession.

Barba looked bemused, glancing between the two women as they raised their hands and called out their bids. He seemed to have forgotten his cocksure stance and smirk, appearing uncharacteristically soft and vulnerable. Benson’s protective instincts were difficult to ignore, but she reminded herself that he could take care of himself.

The bidding reached five hundred—the highest of the night, so far—and Benson could sense the blonde beside her drawing close to her limit. Her replies were getting slower as she considered, and it seemed clear that the other woman—who was showing no such hesitation—was going to outlast her.

_I want the short one. Cocky posture but friendly smile._

“Do I get five-twenty-five?” Lucia asked for the second time, looking pointedly at the woman beside Benson, but the blonde shot Barba a disappointed look and gave her head a little shake. “Then it looks—”

“Five-twenty-five,” Benson blurted.

Barba’s gaze cut to her face, and when their eyes met his brow ticked upward in question. 

Benson could feel the surprise of the woman beside her, and could also feel the other bidder glaring at her from further down the crowd. 

Lucia seemed surprisingly pleased.

“Five—”

“Five-fifty,” the other woman called before Lucia had finished. 

Everyone seemed to be looking at Benson, now, but she only cared about one steady pair of green eyes regarding her from the stage. Barba was waiting to see what she was going to do, and Benson felt heat climbing up her throat and into her cheeks. It was too late to back down now; she hadn’t meant to throw her hat into the ring but now that she had, she wasn’t about to lose him to some person who didn’t appreciate how valuable he actually was.

“Five-seventy-five,” she said, trying not to think about how high she was willing to go. It would be ridiculous and irresponsible to gouge her savings for three hours with a friend—“Six-twenty-five,” she said as soon as the other woman called six. 

The smirk now slanting Barba’s lips was entirely too smug, and Benson ground her teeth as the bidding reached seven hundred dollars. He was amused, his eyes dancing in the fluorescent lights, and Benson refused to look at him when she added the next twenty-five. 

“Sold for eight hundred and seventy-five dollars!” Lucia exclaimed thirty seconds later, beaming. She was positively gleeful, and that didn’t help Benson’s flush of embarrassment as the crowd applauded. She couldn’t meet Barba’s eyes as she realized what she’d just done, so she turned and made her way through the crowd, barely hearing the words of congratulations tossed her way, while Lucia opened bidding on the final date.

Benson gave the bartender her empty glass and quickly downed a second, wondering if she shouldn’t get something stronger than wine to steel herself for the upcoming face to face with Barba. Behind her, the bidding for the final bachelor ended at five hundred, meaning Barba’s was the most expensive date of the night.

Because of her.

She pinched the bridge of her nose, reminding herself that it was for the school. They could do a lot with her...almost nine hundred dollars. She could only hope her squad never found out. And God, what about Lucia? 

She knew Barba was behind her before he spoke. “Did you drive?” he asked. She shook her head. “Scotch and another glass of red,” he told the bartender, reaching past Benson to pay the man. As soon as Benson had her third glass of wine in her hand, she turned to face Barba. He raised his eyebrows and laughed, “What the hell was that?” 

“If you want an honest answer I’m going to need to finish this glass first.”

He grinned. 

“Can you look a little less smug?” 

“No, I don’t think I can,” he said, his voice breaking with amusement. “Liv, if you wanted—”

“Congratulations.” 

Barba looked over, surprised into silence as the woman sidled up to him. She was speaking to Benson, although there was no sincerity in her voice or smile. The smile grew more sincere when she turned her attention to Barba and held out a folded slip of paper. He took it automatically.

“When you’re in the mood for something...less formal,” she said, brushing a hand over his arm and flashing her dimples. “Keep me in mind.” She cast Benson one last look before turning and slipping back into the crowd.

Barba and Benson looked at each other. “Is she watching?” he asked. She glanced past him and shook her head, and he leaned over to drop the unopened paper into the trashcan at the end of the table that was serving as the bar. 

“You sure about that? She seems very into you.”

“It’s the tux. Works every time.”

“Is that right?” she laughed.

“Got you on the hook for more than twice what either of us paid for our first car.”

“You used to drive?”

“First and only car, in my case.” He paused. “Want to share a ride tonight? I can drop you off—”

“You can come over, if you want. Get takeout? I’m not up for cooking.” 

“Sure.” He regarded her in silence for a moment. “I’ll split the bid with you. Seriously, I know it’s a good cause, but you saved me from the vultures, you shouldn’t have to shell out—”

“You just worry about planning the date, Barba,” she cut in. She sighed and looked toward the front of the room. “As soon as I finish this drink, I’ll go pay your mother.”

“Don’t tell her what I said about putting out on a first date.”

Benson smiled and reached out to pat his chest. “No, I know—You’re a good Catholic boy who wants to settle down and have babies.”

He rolled his eyes. “Babies? At our age?”

She laughed, shaking her head. “Eight year olds have their own challenges.”

“As long as they can tie their shoes and microwave something when they’re hungry…”

She laughed again. “Sure, but when’s the last time you had to do third grade homework?”

“When I was in second grade.”

“Smartass. But you did go to Harvard.”

“They only let dumbasses in if they’re rich. Probably best not to mention babies to my mother, either. She’s already way too excited about you bidding.”

“I noticed. I’ll let her think it’s no big deal.”

“All for the school.”

“Right. No butterflies in my stomach.”

He smiled and leaned toward her. “I might have a few.”

Ignoring the flutter of her heart, she said, “You have a specific night in mind for this date?”

“Tomorrow.”

“Looking to get it over as soon as possible?” 

“I was.” He glanced at her mouth and swallowed. “If tomorrow doesn’t work for you, I can rearrange.”

“Tomorrow’s fine. What time does the clock start, six?”

His lips quirked. “Quarter to.” He paused, studying her. “I’ll be a perfect gentleman for the full four hours.”

She sipped her wine, letting the words hang for a few moments. “And after that?” she finally asked. “When you’re off the clock?”

“After that I’ll be whatever you want me to be.”


End file.
